disloyal order of goddesses
by Karin Serendipity
Summary: She loves him until he starts to love her, then she wants to tear him apart. DarkCastleShipping. Rated for language; might be a tad dark around the end.


**AN: Rated T for slight language.**

and she's like Medusa, baby.  
her looks can kill.

i.

When she walks she commands gravity, the shifting of the tectonic plates, the rotation of the Earth, and seldom-times the impulsion of galaxies. She is the Creator and the Destroyer of the Universe; there is power in the way she holds her chin up high. Grimsley's insistent on her being a ethereal being: perhaps a goddess or a fallen angel, or even an embodiment of God. (he realizes he gives her too much credit with these titles) The mere flutter of her eyes can control men, women, and children; the flick of her wrist can destroy countries. People fall over themselves to sneak a peek into her icy, beautiful cyan gaze, but when they finally see, they notice the bottomless pits of emptiness she possesses (has possessed most of her life). She turns these spectators into stone, then moves along like an apparition: here one moment, gone the next.

Everyone loves her; men feel amazement, adoration, too much desire for her.

ii.

Grimsley has drank himself numb, yet he still feels something towards this women: it is such a small something that he pays no mind to it and fixes himself another drink.

iii.

"Grimsley, are you alright?" Her tone is thoughtful and slow; it is one of those rare times when she is using her actual voice to someone other than a challenger. This voice seems otherworldly with its cool tones; it is something so pure and beautiful. A chill runs down Grimsley's spine as he shudders in response to it.

She isn't asking about his emotional state because she can feel his anger radiating off of him in huge waves. What she is actually asking about is if he has sustained any injuries while foolishly tossing his things around in his rage. Books lay scattered in ways that make his room resemble Shauntal's; his couch is overturned and laying on the opposite side of the room. Her eyes dance around and assess the damage: _he's been angrier before_, she thinks with relief.

He can't look her in the eye when they come to rest on him.

"Nothing I can't fix myself," his eyes are like ice and Caitlin vaguely wonders if she can get him to look at her for more than a couple of seconds. Using force would ruin the fun of this game though. His eyes are beautiful and disastrous; she can read his whole life in them.

All her features carefully freeze over back into an emotionless mask that she saves just for the public, but she's not trying to treat Grimsley like one of those boys on the outside of these walls. She wants Grimsley for her own and there is no time to toy with him.

"Let me look at your hand," she coaxes him gently, but he's having none of it in his semi-drunk mind. She wonders if she should make him clear-headed at least, so then he'll consider speaking with her without a hostile tone.

There is a strange sensation in his head, like someone is blowing away fog or wiping off a frosted window. This is how Grimsley knows Caitlin is messing around inside of his head. He should stop her, but he thinks it is kind of _sexy _when she gets her way. She senses this thought, reads it over and over, then retracts her powers from him as fast as she can. It is disgust that causes her to reel back into herself.

Now she's back to not wanting any part of him.

iv.

She's in it for the fight; everyone else gives in to her, yet Grimsley always fights against himself, right now though he is folding, letting her in. Immediately she's sick to her stomach. The room feels like it is closing in, so she runs far away from it.

v.

It is a vicious cycle of her loving him beyond words that metamorphoses into him returning these feelings and dies with her being sickened by his presence through the walls set up between them. If she thinks too hard about these feelings, she gets a headache, so her solution is to spend even more of her time sleeping so she can keep calm and in control.

vi.

"Grimsley, I _fucking _hate you."

"You pretentious bitch: _kiss me."_

The desire mounts between the back-and-forth insults and they kiss amongst her fingernails searching for blood as they run down his arms and his nips to her bottom lip. All she wants to do is smash his fucking head into the floor and spill his blood. That's when she realizes she might actually love him.


End file.
